


the music playing on for only two

by Ann1215



Series: skts fluff week 2021 [6]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Confessions, Dancing, Fluff, M/M, Modern Royalty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-16 17:20:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29579478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ann1215/pseuds/Ann1215
Summary: “Am I the first eligible-aged person you’ve danced with all evenin’?”A grimace flashes across Atsumu’s expression at Kita's question, but he tamps it down with a grin that doesn’t feel completely right. “Well, dancin’ with the kids ‘s a lot more fun though—at least when they step on my feet I don’t feel it as much.”Kita hums. “And it has nothin’ ta do with the fact that yer too scared ta ask Sakusa-kun ta dance with ya?”Atsumu nearly trips over his own feet at that.***In which Atsumu is heir to the throne, but that doesn't mean he's brave enough to ask the man he likes for a dance on his birthday.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Series: skts fluff week 2021 [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2160846
Comments: 9
Kudos: 195
Collections: SakuAtsu Fluff Week 2021





	the music playing on for only two

**Author's Note:**

> Day 7 of SakuAtsu Fluff Week  
> Tier 1 & 3: Royal AU | "I like who I am when I'm with you."
> 
> title taken from 'so close' from the enchanted soundtrack.

Despite the two flying licenses, an education only reserved for the upper accolades of society, and a twin who never hesitates to make a fool of him on the royal social media account, not even the king and queen themselves can completely rid Prince Miya Atsumu of his inherent stubborn streak and commitment to pettiness when he puts his mind to it.

Which is why he’s taken the liberty to only dance with the little children at a nationwide festival meant to celebrate his and Osamu’s twenty-fourth birthday, instead of actively looking for a ‘suitable spouse’, like his parents’ legal adviser had hinted at him for the past week and a half.

As heir to Inari, a small island nation to the west of Japan, Atsumu has been well aware of his duties from the age of six—but that doesn’t mean he particularly enjoys knowing the fact that he’s going to have to settle down sooner or later with someone who can one day rule Inari by his side.

And at this point, Atsumu can only think of one person who might fit that role, but he doesn’t think it would be wise to make a move in such a public scene.

(Also, he’s not at all sure if said move would be even remotely welcome in the first place.)

The festival itself is a grand occasion, as it tends to be with any of the royal family members’ birthdays; the northern and western castle grounds are opened to the public, as loud, upbeat music fills the air, accompanied by delicious scents wafting from the tables where the feasts are held. It feels as if the whole of Inari has gathered for the event, nobles and common folk mingling together in celebration, and Atsumu has spent the last half an hour ducking in and out of conversations with people who watch him with interested, heady gazes, not letting them get a few words out before giving excuses, saying, “Ah, apologies, gotta run—think I see a duke tryin’ ta catch my attention,” as he flits through the crowds.

He manages to keep this up for another fifteen minutes, until he literally nearly bowls over someone in his haste.

When he looks up, the apology practically leaps out of his throat, hands reaching out to grasp firm shoulders.

“Ah, sh—I mean, so sorry about that, Kita-san! You alright?”

Assistant Royal Adviser and twelfth in line to the throne, Kita Shinsuke looks as regal as the twins do in his royal dress attire, a deep maroon suit that contrasts his light grey hair, a small smile on his face as he takes Atsumu’s outstretched arm to steady himself on his feet.

“I’m fine,” he answers, and lets go of Atsumu’s hand when he’s able to stand up straight again. “Actually, I’ve been meaning ta find ya.”

Trepidation trickles across the back of his neck. “Oh, really?”

Kita nods, and Atsumu pouts when the other man holds out his palm. “May I have this dance, yer highness?”

“Kita-san,” Atsumu sighs, and takes Kita’s hand, only the slightest bit begrudging about it. “How many times do I gotta say, ya don’t have ta call me that, ya know. We’re practically family as it is.”

The smile on Kita’s face is honest and full of humour, as he leads Atsumu to the dance floor, a wide space in the middle of the castle grounds where couples, children and families are moving along to the beat of the lively music. They immediately give Kita and Atsumu a wide berth when they realise their presence, and both men take their position as the song winds down in preparation for the next.

“‘S only proper that I do, especially when there are so many ears around,” Kita finally answers when they start moving.

Atsumu raises an eyebrow. “But yer still gonna talk to me about somethin’ anyway, right?”

Years of lessons allow them both to maneuver smoothly around the other dancers, and Kita moves in a little closer in a simple sway that pulls them close enough to converse, without the fear of being overheard. “Am I the first eligible-aged person you’ve danced with all evenin’?”

A grimace flashes across Atsumu’s expression, but he tamps it down with a grin that doesn’t feel completely right. “Well, dancin’ with the kids ‘s a lot more fun though—at least when they step on my feet I don’t feel it as much.”

Kita hums. “And it has nothin’ ta do with the fact that yer too scared ta ask Sakusa-kun ta dance with ya?”

Atsumu nearly trips over his own feet at that. “Wha—did Samu snitch on me?!”

His dance partner exhales, exasperation only evident in the downturn corners of his lips. Atsumu gets spun around once, and then when they’re facing each other again, Kita replies, “He didn’t have to, you’ve been doing yer best to give Sakusa-kun a run for his skills, with how much yer tryin’ ta disappear into the crowds tonight. But yeah,” he adds, “His highness did give me a heads up as well.”

Gods damn it, Osamu. Atsumu resolves to mess with his breakfast tomorrow, somehow. “As my head of security detail, Omi better have the skills ta do somethin’ as simple as lookin’ out fer me,” he snorts, but he’s teasing, really.

Sakusa Kiyoomi, to his own personal knowledge and experience, is the best in the field; second only to Meian, who heads his parents’ security team, and Atsumu trusts Sakusa with his life, through and through.

(Atsumu’s not so sure he’s ready to hand over his heart just yet, though.)

His thoughts are most probably laid out clear as day on his features like this, but Kita only twirls them both around, another cryptic smile on his face as he says, “Well, I’m sure he’s more than well-equipped fer the job. But it won’t hurt ta just stick a lil’ closer ta his side, ‘s all.”

With those words, the song comes to an end, and both of them bow before each other. When Kita lifts his head back up, his eyes flick over to the side once, and then he nods, leaving Atsumu with the parting words, “Thank you fer the dance, Atsumu,” before walking away.

Despite Kita’s bolstering words, Atsumu still isn’t sure if he should seek out Sakusa, but his acceptance to dance with Kita unfortunately opens a floodgate of renewed requests, and that decision is immediately taken out of his hands. He can’t really turn them down anymore, for fear of showcasing favouritism that’s pretty much an open secret anyway, so he acquiesces with a smile as charming as he can muster, taking care to only dance one song per request.

He still does his best to play with the younger ones, sometimes dancing with their parents as well, older men and women who have seen him grow up through visits to the city square, and takes the opportunity to ask after their businesses, their families, if they’re doing well. Most of them are forthtelling in their stories, excitedly talking to him about a new grandchild, about a certain plant they were trying to cross-pollinate (Kita would probably like to hear about that one), or they merely tell him that they’re happy, as long as he’s safe and healthy.

(It never ceases to amaze him, how much love his nation willingly gives.)

But he finally gets a chance for a breather when the night starts to wind down, and stealthily slips into the shadows, past people beginning to make their way home, stumbling slightly from drink and merriness, sticking to the walls and taking care to not be seen.

Atsumu stops when he’s in a darkened corner of the eastern side of the castle, close where the gardens are, moonlight the only thing illuminating his path. He’d only heard his own footsteps for the last ten minutes, but he grins anyway, coming to a halt in front of a tall wall of bush roses.

“Did ya have fun tonight, Omi-kun?”

When he turns around, Sakusa is standing guard two pillars away, his eyes fixed on Atsumu’s figure, as they usually are.

“Not as much as you did, I’m sure.”

Something clenches in his chest when he hears Sakusa’s words.

“It was alright,” Atsumu answers with a shrug. “Oh, did ya hear that Gin’s wife gave birth recently? Can’t believe he’s got two little gremlins runnin’ around now,” and then he’s telling Sakusa about the stories he’d heard from the people they both know, the ones Atsumu visits whenever he can steal an afternoon away from the castle, because wherever Atsumu has gone for the past three years, Sakusa had been right there with him.

“They never said I had to stop you from leaving, just that I’m never supposed to leave your side,” he had said when Atsumu confronted him about it, that very first afternoon.

That had sparked the beginnings of a slow fire burning in Atsumu whenever he catches Sakusa taking a half step in front of them, keeping Atsumu in sight at all times, protecting Atsumu ceaselessly despite how peaceful their nation is, never letting down his guard.

Even now, Sakusa indulges him as he continues regaling the other man with stories—Atsumu never thought the brusque, somewhat uptight man would have been a good conversationalist, but he nods along, asking just enough questions to keep Atsumu going, until they can barely hear the music in the background now.

Eventually, he runs out of stories, and any excuse to stay with Sakusa like this.

“Ah shit,” Atsumu sighs, thankful that Sakusa seems to be the only one aside from Osamu that doesn’t care about the occasional swear from his mouth. “I should probably head back, huh?”

Sakusa stares—he’s not wearing his mask tonight, even though Atsumu knows he must hate it, but it’s the price to pay in order to protect the royal heir, and Sakusa’s expression is puzzled. “You don’t want to?”

“Not really,” Atsumu snorts. “Kinda tired out now, and I liked just talkin’ ta ya.” _I like who I am when I'm with ya,_ he doesn't say.

A beat, and then, “... So you weren’t actually avoiding me?”

Atsumu blinks, before he watches Sakusa a little closer—the moon is bright enough that he can see the slight pink across the other man’s cheekbones, and Sakusa continues to gaze right back at him. For anyone else, it would have been grounds for insolence.

For Sakusa, Atsumu thinks he would let the man get away with nearly anything.

“‘S that what ya thought?”

Sakusa sighs, closing his eyes and lifting a hand to rub between his brows. “Your highness—”

Atsumu holds out a hand, frowning. “There’s no one around, Omi-Omi.”

“... Atsumu,” Sakusa amends, biting his lip as he looks up again. “I have been looking at you everyday for the past three years of my life. I know how you like hard-boiled eggs better than soft-boiled—which should be grounds for a royal scandal—how you smile at Prince Osamu with something more than pride whenever you think he’s not looking, and how your heart breaks for every single one of your people, but you never show them anything else but your strength and kindness instead.”

There’s a ringing in Atsumu’s ears, barely able to comprehend Sakusa’s words.

“I’ve looked at you enough to know that at one point recently, you’ve stopped looking back. And…” Sakusa trails off for a moment, and then he lowers his head, palm splayed across his heart in the humblest, most tentative manner Atsumu has ever seen from him in all the time they’ve known each other. “It’s presumptuous of me to do this, but if there’s anything I’ve done that might have hurt you, then please consider this as me asking for your forgiveness.”

Fire blazes all over Atsumu—there’s heat on his face, and his knees are weak at the thought of Sakusa potentially suffering just because Atsumu was too much of a coward to face his feelings before tonight.

No more succumbing to his fear, then. If he is to inherit the throne of Inari, then this is the very least he can do for both of them.

“Oh,  _ Omi-kun,” _ he manages to croak out, and doesn’t realise there are wet trails on his cheeks until Sakusa lifts his head up, eyes flashing with regret.

“And I’ve somehow made you cry. Atsumu, I’m—”

“Omi,  _ no, _ it’s not what you think at all,” Atsumu protests, shaking his head furiously, but he’s sniffling rather unattractively, and this really isn’t how he wanted to go about this, but Sakusa deserves the same bravery he had offered. “Okay, fuck it, I’ll just be honest,” he mutters, and keeps his eyes on Sakusa. “I didn’t want to dance with anyone tonight.”

But Sakusa frowns at him. “What does that have to do with me making you cry?”

“No, I already  _ said _ ya didn’t—damn it, why ‘s this so hard?”

“Well,” Sakusa replies lightly, forehead still creased with obvious worry, “Maybe try stringing a couple of words together properly, for starters.”

That gets Atsumu to laugh, because of course Sakusa would do just the right thing to get him out of his head, even if that means insulting a royal heir to the throne right to his face.

“Okay. Words.” Atsumu exhales, rubbing at his cheeks, willing himself to stop crying. “I c’n do that.”

Sakusa raises an eyebrow, but there’s something in his expression that rekindles the hope that Atsumu had tried to bury so deeply within him for the past six months, when he’d figured out just how much he'd fallen for the man by his side.

So he takes a few steps forward, until there’s barely a foot between both of them, mustering all the courage he can find and shuts his eyes as he admits:

“You were the only one I wanted ta dance with, Omi. Not Kita-san, not the other people that had tried ta get my attention—there was never anybody else but ya.”

When he slowly opens his eyes, Sakusa’s own dark ones are wide open, roving all over Atsumu’s features. “Why?” he rasps out at last.

Unbidden tears appear once more, and Atsumu asks, “Ya sure ya really wanna hear the reason?”

“Atsumu,” Sakusa says,  _ pleads, _ and when Atsumu’s gaze flickers downwards, his fists are clenched. “I think I’ve been waiting to hear it for long enough.”

His words give Atsumu the final push, and he’s grinning through his tears. “Kiyoomi,” he murmurs, tasting the way that name fits in his mouth. “I’m pretty sure it’s because I’ve fallen head o’er heels fer ya.”

Sakusa lifts a trembling, open hand before him, barely grazing the wetness on his skin. “You’re serious.”

Atsumu nods. “I’d stake my claim to the throne fer this truth,” he replies, and Sakusa’s expression breaks into an open, relieved smile and Atsumu thinks faintly,  _ this. This is the one who will break me and keep me whole, all at once. _

“You don’t need to do that,” Sakusa says softly. “I believe you, Atsumu.”

He grins wider, shifting on the balls of his feet. “Now it’s yer turn to say it back,” he demands.

But Sakusa narrows his eyes then, pretty lips curled into a smirk. “You can wait a little longer, surely?”

“Omi…” Atsumu whines, and he’s aware that he’s pouting in an unbecoming manner, but Sakusa’s had years of dealing with it, anyway. He’ll just have to get even more used to it now.

Instead of replying to him normally, Sakusa takes the hand that’s been hovering beside Atsumu’s face, and then holds it out between both of them, palm out in an unmistakable manner.

“May I have this dance first, your highness?”

Atsumu huffs, glancing between the hand and Sakusa’s face. “Ask again, Omi. Properly.”

And Sakusa is sighing, exasperation coating his exhale in a severe fondness that makes Atsumu giggle, helplessly returning Sakusa’s smile.

“Atsumu. Dance with me?”

**Author's Note:**

> I had a whole separate outline for this that includes their background and how they met,, but perhaps another time
> 
> this is super short but I hope you still liked it aaah


End file.
